Friday Night Discipline Part 2

As Tommy returned to the room full of onlookers, he caught eyes with Miss Genovese. She looked fucking hot. So fucking hot. Dressed in an elegant, light brown silky gown that complemented her olive skin tone and deep-set brown eyes; she radiated class all the way as far as Tommy was concerned. Being an insatiable foot fetishist, he couldn’t help but look at her shoes. Brown pumps, with a moderate heel and open-toed. Her toes, perfectly pedicured as always, showed off her daintiness at 4’11.” Tommy had to consciously peel his eyes off her lovely brown painted toenails. Strangely, when Tommy’s eyes met with Miss Genovese during these times he found himself staring back at a very radiant, even smiling face that was both inviting and seductive. He knew, instinctively, that she liked him – somehow. How much she liked him he often wondered.

Tommy placed the chair in the center of the room as told and sat in shame directly in front of Miss Genovese and the other guests. There she was, just as he’d imagined, right in the center of the plush sofa – a front row seat for his thrashing. Suddenly, she uncrossed her legs like Sharon Stone in “Basic Instinct” and flashed Tommy a good two second look of heaven – her lovely, brown beaver, with its pink vulva folds extending, almost asking – no, begging – to be fucked. Tommy licked his lips and stared directly into Theresa Genovese’s eyes and then he knew. She cracked a slight smile and nodded ever so slightly, taking her eyes down to his crotch, which now showed moisture through his Levis. Tommy looked down and almost died. What more would he have to endure this evening? Wasn’t the switching going to be shameful enough? Now his cum stain had seeped through to the front of his jeans!

The tears came fast and furious now. Where was his father? What sort of switches was he picking – he sure was taking his time, more than usual. He knew they would be thick. They always were when he had to go get them. But how thick? Why was Miss Genovese looking at him now so sadly, yet seductively? Why was the room spinning around and everyone so silent? Why were all eyes trained directly on him as if looking over a piece of meat at the supermarket.

It seemed a lifetime Tommy sat in that chair and still his father had not returned. The tears were now running like a river down his cheeks. Some of the women, mostly elders, did not budge or show emotion at this as they felt he deserved the switching and that this was just part of the preliminaries as Tommy’s father had explained earlier to Miss Genovese.

Miss Genovese surveyed the room and saw no one even lifting a finger to comfort the boy, who was in obvious distress over his impending doom. Slowly and seductively, she went to Tommy – kneeling down in front of him – making direct eye contact. Immediately, he smelled her wonderful aroma of Chanel No. 5 – which she always wore (never anything else).

“I know it’s going to be painful for you, but you can get through this, Thomas,” she said. “I’m going out of town tomorrow, or I’d ask you over to do some chores. Can you come next Friday, say five-thirty?”

Tommy nodded again, feigning a slight smile that quickly vanished at the thought of his father cutting some even thicker switches to break over his bum.

“So you come over next Friday and cut my lawn and we’ll share some homemade lemonade, okay,” Miss Genovese said softly, trying to lighten Tommy’s mood.

Then she did something that shocked even Tommy – not to mention the entire congregation: She wiped his wet cheeks with the softness of the back of her hand and gave him a quick, but sensual kiss on the cheek which left a bright lipstick stain. Tommy feigned another smile just as his father walked into the room, but it dissipated quick as it came when he saw the arsenal of switches he was whipping through the air at his expense. Never had Miss. Genovese shown this type of concern or affection for him. And during such a tender moment. Tommy’s mind was now racing something akin to a manic depressive’s without the Lithium – sweet thoughts and tenderness making him glow with a warmness his fantasy love had just showered upon him – and getting to be with her next Friday night. Then at the sight of his father seeing Miss Genovese return to her seat – and staring at the lipstick stain on his cheek – got his heart thumping in his throat a few more hundred miles an hour.

Dr. Stephenson continued testing the switches in the air in front of his audience using short, quick strokes that made the pencil-thin greenery whistle a sickening sound in poor Tommy’s ears.

Then his father’s face turned even darker; he noticed Tommy’s “mess” on the front of his Levis! This incensed Dr. Stephenson, whose eyes widened to the size of silver dollars at his trembling son, who sat in disbelief at the occurrences thus far.

Every eye was trained on both the lipstick stain and the wetness.

A new level of shame washed across his hardened good looks as his father continued testing the switches even more fiercely than before.

Dr. Stephenson turned to his son and finally spoke in his ear: “I don’t know what’s been going on in here, but we’ll talk about it later. See these switches, Tommy?”

Tommy nodded as tears came again.

“This is what I wanted. Thick, green switches the color of a lucky leprechaun which will whip you into a frenzy – but it looks as if you’ve already been involved with being “whipped” into some sort of ‘frenzy.'”

Hushed tones and whispers again filled the room as Tommy instinctively pressed his legs together, hiding the huge cum stain that shone brightly through his brand new bright blue 501s. Why couldn’t they have been faded? Or bleached? They had to be new, thought Tommy. He knew pressing his thighs together was in vain because in just a few short moments his father would have him with his jeans and briefs down around his ankles, his penis in full view of the congregation. Oh no! He could feel it stiffening! Not now! Not here! How fucking embarrassing.

“Stand,” Dr. Stephenson commanded, almost under his breath.

Tommy stood and kept his legs pressed together. He was now pitching a tent a Boy Scout would be proud of! Everyone except Miss Genovese was falling down with laughter as the boy whimpered and even more tears gushed down his cheeks.

“Face our guests and peel down,” his father continued. Dr. Stephenson was obviously extremely embarrassed and infuriated at his son’s plight, but nevertheless had a job to do. Yes, there would definitely be a father/son talk after the guests had left for the evening. And Tommy had the sinking feeling that more switches would be present and accounted for. Or, for the more serious transgressions, 50 swats with the holed paddle at full force. He literally wouldn’t be able to sit in class the next day without the aid of a pillow. He knew his poor bottom was only just now receiving the beginning of his punishment this evening and this, coupled with the complete and utter degradation of not only what Miss Genovese had done in front of everyone – but the visible cum stain – had made him a very humiliated young man.

Slowly, Tommy undid the buttons on his Levis and shoved them down to the tops of his shoes. As he stood up, his penis poked through the briefs and the sight of that alongside the soaked shorts was just too much for everyone, who broke down with heavy guffaws and laughter at Tommy’s expense yet again.

Then there were the “Ooooohhs” and “aaaaahhs” and whistling over the size of Tommy’s cock – a full eight inches and almost two and a half inches in circumference with a head the size of a small apple. Quite a dong. Even Miss Genovese could not help but marvel at Tommy’s manhood.

Miss Genovese still had not taken her eyes off young Tommy’s tool. She hoped he’d make eye contact with her as she sensually ran her tongue across her top lip. But the shame of everyone seeing his soiled briefs was too much – not to mention the fact that his cock was still rock hard. Then, suddenly, he caught eyes with her! Then he shut everyone else in the room out except for his hot, sexy, Italian love. His father’s commands of kneeling up on the chair were ringing hollow in his ears as he remained transfixed on Theresa Genovese’s full, pert lips. He turned around now, away from her and the others, showing them his bare, white buttocks – soon to be slashed and pockmarked horribly. She smiled at him with a special admiration, puckering those lovely collagen-implanted lips, and feigned a light kiss to her hero who was about to be beaten into submission for her. The kiss almost silently telling him it would be all right just before he stared straight ahead at his sister, who was gawking over the size of his dick – and who always got to witness his whippings. It was hard to believe at the moment that things would be okay, what with what had already transpired, but Miss Genovese’s kindness during this difficult moment so overwhelmed the boy it moved him to more tears – even before the first rod had been broken over his backside by his now furious father standing beside him at the ready.

Dr. Stephenson leaned down and whispered in his son’s ear again: “I’ll take care of you later. I don’t know what’s been going on here, but I’ll take care of you – and that’s a promise! Do you realize what you’ve done?! Shamed the entire family in front of our parishioners! What’s wrong with you?!”

As Tommy took his place kneeling on the chair, his cock still at half-mast, dripped a generous amount of pre-seminal fluid. Why was he so hard, he thought? The answer was simple; she was sitting directly behind him now, eyes fixated on his firm, round buttocks. Why were thoughts of her consuming him now? How many times had he wished he could’ve had such an erection with his on-again, off-again sometimes girlfriend, Jennifer? This was definitely not the time to show how much of a man he was.

This had never, ever happened before. Tommy had always remained flaccid during his whippings and degradation. Now his father stood beside him and watched with shameful disbelief as his son showed him how excited he was, continuing to drip semen – this fluid now pure milky white and thickly textured. How Tommy wished he could die right there and then.

“I … I’m sorry, father,” Tommy somehow stammered out.

Dr. Stephenson, too shamed to discuss this bizarre event with the congregation on the edge of their seats, leaned down and whispered to his son: “You will be.”

Then he motioned Tammy closer.

“See this mess?”

“Yes, father.”

“Get some paper towels and Lysol from the kitchen. And hurry!”

“Yes, father,” Tammy said, respectfully as she hurried from the room.

Tammy darted off to the kitchen, a shit-eating grin spreading across her face unbeknownst to everyone in the room behind her as she quickly disappeared into the darkness. She returned in a flash, and handed the can of Lysol and paper towels to her waiting father – who grabbed them and with lightning-quick speed, cleaned up his son’s mess. This was to no avail, however, as Tommy could not stop the semen from dripping even after the vinyl seat cover had been wiped several times. Tommy just closed his eyes, wishing he were anywhere but there. And that his father would just get the whole thing over. Would the whipping make him cum more? The evening had become his own private hellish “Twilight Zone,” with the actuality of the elapsed events and moments seemingly frozen in a bizarre sense of suspended animation. Tammy was speaking to her father in slow motion and her words were silent. He forced himself to look down. More semen dripping! Was it an hour yet? Or two? How long had this mistake of gargantuan proportions been going on? It seemed like it could’ve been days at this point that he’d been kneeling on that chair awaiting his fate.

Tommy could hear the hushed voices of the congregation talking amongst themselves. Were they talking about his erection? Did they think the kiss from Miss Genovese had given him such excitement he’d cum all over the place? Or were they talking about something in her words to him? How utterly embarrassing, he thought, having to show his cock to the church’s members, then show him his soon-to-be pockmarked bottom. He wished a huge hole would open up underneath him and simply devour him.

As the first switch cut deeply into his ass, Tommy cried out.A searing white light of pain shot up his spine immediately and whirled around inside his head. Before he had time to recover from the initial stroke of the switch, he clenched his teeth, moaning an almost inhuman throaty shrill from the back of his tonsils as another stroke embedded itself firmly into his bare, white bum. Dr. Stephenson broke that first switch after ten severe cuts that would’ve reduced even a grown man to the tears of a six-year old. Tommy was bawling like a baby, knowing he had two more ultra pliable switches to go before he would be allowed to apologize to Mrs. Havisham, the lady he knocked over and go upstairs to his bedroom and lie on his stomach, allowing his bottom to cool down from the chastisement. Forget the date. He’d have to call and tell Jennifer of his plight. Maybe she would understand. Would she believe him? How could she? Not even a novelist could make up such a story. Did he care at this point? His cock was sashaying from side to side, still dripping an ample amount of semen, half erect now, as the last two switches landed with artistic accuracy, breaking hard across his weeping, sore bum cheeks.